


Tea of Death

by Noppoh



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Hermione Granger, F/M, Rituals, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 04:36:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10632333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noppoh/pseuds/Noppoh
Summary: It's the Final Battle, and Hermione can finally show her true colors.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SomethingWorthFightingFor](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SomethingWorthFightingFor) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> "From now on, I don't care if my tea leaves spell 'Die, Ron, Die,' I'm chucking them in the bin where they belong."
> 
> \- Ron Weasley, The Order of the Phoenix (book)
> 
> All canon character, plots, and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this work.
> 
> Thank you to my beta for their time and work on this story.

"From now on, I don't care if my tea leaves spell 'Die, Ron, Die,' I'm chucking them in the bin where they belong."

He remembered himself saying that. If only he hadn’t, because now, he was most definitely dead. He should have been worried when the next tea leaves reading did indeed say “Die, die, die”, but it was Divination, nobody actually payed attention. It didn’t work. Trelawney was a fraud.

And now Death was mocking him with his words. It was all he could see, for it was pitch black, wherever he was. Did he even have a body? Some sort of shape? He wasn’t really sure. But yeah, Death was most definitely mocking him, letting his own words shine in neon lights, right in front of him. Always right in front of him, he couldn’t look away. Great.

Wait, he was dead. That bitch! He looked down, wanting to see what was going on in the living world, and saw his own body lying limp next to that of Severus Snape. He remembered:

_He had his arms wrapped around Hermione, holding her back._

_“No, Hermione, no, you can’t go in, you can’t help him!”_

_She struggled, for some reason trying to get to that git Severus Snape. He wondered what on earth possessed her. She went limp in his arms as Nagini struck out again and again, mortally wounding the greasy bat._

_“Good riddance!” he thought. The man had been foul and loathsome. They had been right all along, he was a Death Eater. He had killed Dumbledore, for Merlin’s sake, why was Hermione so obsessed with him?_

_Voldemort – he still shuddered when saying the name, there was no denying it – slithered out of the room, closely followed by his pet snake, hissing at it. They dashed inside as soon as he was gone. He stood to the side as he watched both Harry and Hermione put pressure on the horrible neck wound. It was hard to look at, torn flesh and oozing blood._

_Turning away, he almost missed the laboured “take ... them”. Curious, he watched Harry catch Snape’s tears in a vial. Why on earth was he doing that? Was he going to remember the git with some tears? Why would he want to do that in the first place?_

_There were tears running down Hermione’s face as Snape let out a last, laboured breath and slumped down, dead. Harry stood up, mumbling something about having to go to Dumbledore’s office. Ron kneeled down next to Hermione, wrapping an arm around the girl he loved, trying to console her, even though he wondered why she was crying over the asshole._

_Once Harry was out of the room, her body stiffened. Slowly she turned towards him. He flinched at the cold, calculated and angry look on her face._

_“You,” she said, her voice strange, “you held me back, I could have saved him and you held me back. You are the cause of his death.” A chilling smile formed around her mouth. “And now you will be his source of life.”_

_Before he could comprehend what she was saying, a knife sliced his neck. He didn’t even feel the pain. Suddenly, his air was cut off, he felt like he was drowning and suffocating all at once. Vaguely he wondered where the knife came from. There was a gurgling sound, was that him?_

_He clawed at his neck as the pain suddenly flared to life. His hands came away covered in blood. There were spots in his vision, and he blinked rapidly to try and clear them. It was no use. Why was he suddenly feeling so cold? The spots grew bigger, obscuring his view. The world turned dark. The last thing he heard, before oblivion claimed him, was Hermione’s cold voice: “Die, Ron, die” followed by a laugh that reminded him too much of Bellatrix._

That laugh was his last, living memory. The next thing he knew, he was staring at those glowing letters, reflecting the words he had spoken in fifth year. How he knew so certain that he was dead, he had no idea.

Looking back down, he watched Hermione pick up a cup she had set on the floor. It was filled with blood, his blood he suddenly realised. There were various things scattered around her: the bloodied knife that he presumed had slashed open his throat, a rock-like thing - what was it called again, jesar?, jesor?, besor?, right, a bezoar! - dittany and some plants he couldn’t identify. She was mumbling while preparing for something, he didn’t know what exactly.

“Don’t worry Severus, I’ll get this sorted.”

_Severus???_ Ron thought. _Since when does she call him Severus?_

“I must hurry, there is not much time left. That idiot held me back.” She smirked. “At least now he’s serving a purpose instead of being dead weight. Only there for Harry’s comfort.”

Dead weight? The girl he loved called him dead weight? Well, he didn’t love her anymore! It’s kind of hard to stay attached after someone kills you. He was no dead weight! He had ideas, he had destroyed the locket. He had carried his share of the burden! How dare she call him dead weight!

Hermione pulled a shallow bowl from her beaded bag, and put it between her and Snape. Grabbing the knife, she cut some hair from Ron’s head. Both the plants and his hair went into the bowl, and was set on fire.

The coldness in her eyes grew determined as she once more took hold of the cup filled with his blood. Raising it up like an offering, she started talking in some foreign, guttural language. He gagged, and would have thrown up if that was a possibility for a dead man, when he saw her take a big mouthful of his blood and swallow it.

She grinned afterwards, her teeth tinged red, a trail of blood seeping from the corner of her mouth. The sight was absolutely horrifying. She looked like a demon, one set free and on a killing spree. With horror, he saw her take the knife and slice her wrist. Blood dripped into the bowl, dousing the fire, as she started chanting in those same, guttural tones.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. It felt like electricity, that weird Muggle thing his father couldn’t stop talking about, running down his back. The neon lettering, that was still visible from the corner of his eye, started blurring, going in and out of focus.

Suddenly it dawned on him: Was she reaching into the realm of the dead? He felt a tug in the area around his heart when she mixed the ashes and blood from the bowl with his blood in the cup. Looking down at his body, he noticed he had become see-through. There was a light at the centre of his chest, and it started flickering most disturbingly.

Panicking, he turned his attention back to the witch he loved and now hated. What had she meant with ‘you will be his life source’? Almost reverently, and still chanting, she held the greasy bat’s head in one hand, put the bezoar in his mouth, and poured in the blood-mixture.

Blinding, white-hot pain shot through him. Ron screamed soundlessly. The light in his chest shattered into pieces. He realized that the wound on Snape’s neck was healing at the same speed the light in his chest was dimming, and his form was vanishing.

The words “Die, Ron, die” once more branded themselves in his vision. Finally, he understood. He would die twice: Once his body, once his soul.

* * *

 A grunt escaped his lips, and Hermione let out a sigh of relief.

“Severus! Severus!” she called out, holding his beloved face between her hands, being careful not to jostle him.

Blinking against the light, he opened his eyes.

“Damn it woman! You let me die!”

“You let yourself be killed, you idiot!” she shot back, smiling. “But that’s what contingency plans are for.”

Severus reached for his neck, softly mapping out the still tender skin. Hermione grabbed her Essence of Dittany, smacked his hand away, and started applying the potion. He let out a sigh of relief once the numbing and cooling effects of the potion kicked in.

“Who did you kill?” he rasped.

“The Weasel,” she gestured dismissively at the ginger’s dead body. “He held me back, I couldn’t reach you. He got what he deserved.”

“Good riddance,” Severus agreed with a nod, wincing at the movement.

“Are you ok?”

“I’ll be fine, love, I just need some time.”

He smiled at his little witch. Who would have thought the Gryffindor Princess harboured such a dark soul? It matched his perfectly. Even more after she got tortured by Bellatrix.

“Why did the Dark Lord kill you?” she asked. “Didn’t you tell him about Draco disarming the old coot?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Then why?”

“The Dark Lord believes only a Killing Curse wins over the wand’s loyalty. He thinks Draco isn’t the true owner, but that I was. So he decided upon killing me.”

“Well, we always knew there was that risk.” Hermione pouted. “I’m sorry you had to die.”

He caressed her cheek. “No worries, love, you brought me back, just like you promised.”

There was a moment of silence as she held his hand and leaned into his touch.

“You should go, Hermione. Go tell Harry his best friend is dead. It will break him.”

A wicked grin appeared on her face. He chuckled.

“You can’t go looking like that! Your best friend just died too. Try crying a little?”

She glared at him, eliciting another chuckle. She tried looking sad and heartbroken, but failed at it miserably. In the end, she grabbed her wand and spelled her face too look puffy and red.

“Better?” she asked.

“That’s a trick question.”

She snorted and turned serious. “It’s almost over.”

“Yes, love, yes it is. Almost. Now go, your absence will become suspicious.”

Hermione kissed him lightly on the lips. “I’ll come and get you when Harry goes into the forest to confront our Lord.”

 After staring into his eyes for another long moment, she got up and left the room. Severus closed his eyes. All he could do now was trust her, and gather some strength as he waited for her to return.

* * *

 She returned to the castle at a mild jog. The spell-induced tears were streaking down her face, and she did her best to look stricken. When she ran through the castle hallways, she heard McGonagall call out for her. She ignored it, pretending to not have noticed.

It almost made her smile again. McGonagall, advocate of the light, prim and proper; how fun it would be to teach her the joys of the dark side. She’ll come around, eventually, but it would take some meticulous torture first. Oh, all the fun to look forward to!

Arriving at the headmaster’s office, she finds it empty. Dumbledore’s Pensieve was standing on his desk, the slightly altered memories Severus had provided glowing within them. This time, she couldn’t prevent the smile that tugged at her lips.

Harry wasn’t seeing any lies, no, they had made sure of that. Severus had altered the perception of the memories. Many forgot that, together with the images of the memory, you are also experiencing the emotions of the person to whom the memories belong. That’s why it’s so difficult to create a fake memory. Severus had altered the emotions in the memories Harry was watching. Instead of loathing Dumbledore and the Light, he had infused gratefulness, shame, guilt and sense of duty. It should work like a charm.

The silver-grey fluids started swirling, and Hermione put her sad face back on. Harry reappeared with his back to her.

“Harry?”

She let her voice quiver a bit. Startled, he turned around, wand already half drawn.

“Merlin, Hermione, you scared me! Where’s Ron?” He took a good look at her, and dread filled his face. “Hermione? What happened?”

She wrapped her arms around herself, head bowed, her posture a little hunched. She was a good actress, always had been one. All her life she had been told to be a good girl, to be kind, to be brave, not to hurt others, to forgive and forget. So that’s what she had started to pretend. Nobody saw the dark smudge that was her soul.

“Harry, Harry, it was awful. It all happened so fast!” Her voice quivered some more, making it look like she was about to break down. “You just left, and all I wanted to do was put Professor Snape in a more decent position. You know, not slumped against the wall, but properly lying on the ground. I felt like that was the least we could do. So I got Ron to help me, and then, and then … they appeared…”

“Who appeared, Hermione?”

The dread on his face was becoming more and more obvious, as if he already knew what she was going to say but refused to acknowledge it.

“The Death Eaters,” she whispered. “We could hear them coming. They were laughing, joking, saying stuff like wanting to see that bastard Severus dead for themselves. Hoping that there might still be some life to him, so they could make his death even more painful. It was awful! It was so awful…”

“Hermione!” he nearly shouted. “What happened?”

“We tried to run for it, tried to get back to the tunnel, but one of them must have seen Ron turn the corner. He shouted ‘there’s a Weasley here’, and they started pursuing us. He pushed me into the tunnel, and then, then he closed it behind me. He said he’d lead them away, that I should try and find you. After he barely took two steps, a Slicing Hex hit him in the throat. There was so much blood! He fell down, I could see him through the cracks between the floorboards. His hands were clawing at his neck, and the Death Eaters were laughing, just laughing. There was nothing I could do, nothing! He died right in front of me, and I couldn’t help!”

She let her knees buckle, falling to the floor in a crying heap. Looking up from under her eyelashes, she could see that Harry had become pale as a ghost. He was leaning against the desk, unable to support himself, as tears started flowing.

“No!” he breathed, barely audible. “No!”

Hermione hoped Ron’s made-up self-sacrifice solidified Harry’s natural habit to do exactly the same: sacrifice himself. The Dark Lord had already announced that Harry was to go into the forest on his own. When she thought sufficient time had passed, she raised her tear-stained face and looked at Harry.

“What did you see in the memories?” she asked.

He didn’t respond, only kept staring in the distance. _Shock must have turned him numb,_ Hermione thought.

“Harry? Harry!” Finally he turned his head towards her. “What did you see?”

Haltingly, he started describing the memories she already knew. She was gauging his reaction to them, and was satisfied to see determination return to his eyes. They had judged him right, he would sacrifice himself.

Hermione nodded, gasped, and denied at the right times. She pretended to be as surprised as Harry, when he told her Snape had been spying for the Light after all. She commented on how much he must have loved Harry’s mother, and on how tragic and difficult Snape’s life must have been. There was shock on her face when Harry told her he was a Horcrux. Inwardly, she rolled her eyes. He was so gullible. At least the Horcrux-part was true, everything else wasn’t, not really.

“I must go to him,” Harry said eventually.

“What!?”

“I must go meet him in the forest, it’s the only way,” he looked at her, resigned, sad.

“Harry! You can’t, I can’t let you do that!”

“I have to, there is no other way. I have to die, and he is the only one who can kill me.”

He walked to where she was still kneeling on the floor, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her up into a hug.

“You take care of the snake,” he murmured in her ear. “Kill the snake, kill Voldemort. I believe in you Hermione. Find Neville and Ginny, they’ll fight alongside you. Tell Ginny, tell Ginny I love her.”

She nodded mutely. Harry tightened his hold for a split second, before letting go and walking out of the office, leaving behind a sobbing Hermione. Once she was sure he was out of hearing range, she waved her wand and cancelled the spell. Merlin, she hadn’t cried this much since she was a baby, she felt parched!

It was all going according to plan. Now she could go back to Severus, and finally meet the Dark Lord. As a precaution, Severus had said, she couldn’t meet him before the end. To make sure her identity was kept a secret. Apparently, even the Dark Lord himself didn’t know who she was, just that she existed. Smiling, she gathered Severus’s fake memories, and made her way back to the Shrieking Shack.

* * *

 They neared the clearing in the forest when the Dark Lord’s voice rang out clearly: “ _Avada Kedavra!_ ” There was cheering and laughing, Bellatrix’s voice the loudest of them all. The scene developed in front of them as they reached the edge of the open space.

“Narcissa, go confirm he’s really dead this time,” the Dark Lord commanded haughtily.

Severus stepped out from between the trees. “There is no need for that, my Lord, for I can tell you with certainty that he is not.”

Voldemort whipped around, and raised his wand. “Severus,” he drawled. “You should be dead. Nagini’s venom leaves no room for mistakes.”

Sensing the threat to the man she loved, Hermione stepped out into the clearing as well. “Oh, he was very much dead,” she said, confident, but with downcast eyes. She walked up next to Severus, and took hold of his hand. Looking up at him with a smile, she continued, “But I brought him back.”

“Severus, what are you doing with the Mudblood?” Bellatrix asked.

“Indeed, Severus,” the Dark Lord agreed. “Why are you associating with this filth?”

“I am no Mudblood, my Lord,” Hermione answered.

She approached the Dark Lord, got on her knees to crawl the last few meters, and kissed the dirt-stained hem of his robes. “My blood is highly polluted, something I mourn greatly, but I am a descendant of a squib. It’s such an honour to finally meet you, my Lord.”

Still kneeling at his feet, she waited for his answer. She could feel his eyes on the back of her neck. He was so powerful, you could feel it in the air. His snake-like appearance set him apart from all other wizards, showing them all exactly how great he was. She had been waiting for this day since that battle at the Department of Mysteries.

“What is the name of this squib you refer to?” he finally asked.

“Aaron Black, my Lord.”

An outraged cry rang around the clearing.

“Can this be true, Bellatrix?” Voldemort asked.

“Sadly enough, yes, my Lord,” Bellatrix answered, anger eminent in her voice. “He was dispatched to an orphanage once his default was detected.”

“Severus?”

“It’s true, my Lord. I’ve double checked the research. She is the inside contact I’ve told you about. Earlier this evening, she killed Ronald Weasley.”

Hermione smirked, oh, she killed him all right. It had been loathsome to have the blood traitor believe he stood a chance with her. The small touches, his hugs, the words he thought would sweeten her, they had been utterly disgusting. She had suffered them only so they would continue to trust her.

“Rise,” Voldemort commanded her.

She did as she was told, carefully keeping her eyes downcast. He nudged her chin up with a finger. She shuddered at the contact, she could not believe the Dark Lord had deigned himself to touch her! Meeting his red eyes, she dropped her shields as he invaded her mind. There was nothing he was not allowed to see.

His calculating look momentarily rested on the prone figure of Harry Potter, before he turned towards Severus.

“It seems she gave you more than only information, Severus,” he leered.

The Death Eaters erupted in laughter, some making obscene gestures. Hermione couldn’t help but smile at their antics.

“You did well,” Voldemort told her, making her beam with pride. “Was there anything you would want to ask of me?”

“Well,” Hermione answered, unsure whether or not to take him up on the offer. “There is some revenge I would like to exact, if you would let me, my Lord.”

“Revenge hmm? By all means, go ahead.”

Hermione grinned wickedly, and brandished her wand.

“ _Crucio!_ ”

Bellatrix fell to the floor, screaming and convulsing. Voldemort’s laugh filled the air.

“That’s for torturing me at the Manor, _cousin,_ ” Hermione sneered.

“I like your new pet, Severus.”

The professor merely inclined his head in acceptance of the Dark Lord’s words. From the corner of her eye, Hermione noticed Harry leaping up, about to make a run for it. She abandoned her torture of Bellatrix to cast a quick _Incarcerous_ at him. He was far beneath her notice, and hardly a threat, especially now, being surrounded by Death Eaters.

Bellatrix scrambled up. “How dare you! That tiny sliver of magic you’ve got in your blood doesn’t make you much better than a Mudblood! I shall teach you, you insolent -”

“Enough!” the Dark Lord interrupted.

Hermione smiled beatifically at a glaring Bellatrix. Severus came to stand behind her, putting a hand on her hip.

“You did well,” he said, before planting a kiss behind her ear.

She leaned against his warmth, and watched the Dark Lord approach a bound and gagged Harry. The boy was staring at her with hurt and confused eyes.

“Hermione…” was all Harry said after Voldemort spelled away his gag, his voice broken.

“Harry,” she sneered in return.

“But, but Snape’s memories.”

“Were altered, you dimwit. You were ever so gullible, it wasn’t even difficult to deceive you.”

“I…”

He looked utterly defeated, all the fight had left him. She revelled in his pain. After having to play nice for so long, it felt invigorating to finally be herself once more.

“We will finish him off in front of the castle,” Voldemort spoke up. “In full view of everybody, that should teach them not to defy me. Bellatrix, you can have the honour of dragging him behind you. Severus, Granger, you two can walk beside me. Let them see whose side you are really on.”

Bellatrix’s grin eerily resembled Hermione’s. To anybody watching, there could be no doubt about their shared blood. With the Dark Lord in front, they filed out of the woods, and walked up to the castle. Some shouts could be heard from the defenders, and they all gathered on the front steps.

When they approached, people started recognizing her and Harry. Startled and angry cries could be heard. To drive home the message, she wrapped an arm around Severus’ waist. He leaned down, and kissed the top of her head. Laughter escaped her at the outraged shouts coming from her former peers.

“Silence!” Voldemort commanded.

The battlefronts stilled and the Dark Lord motioned Bellatrix to bring forward Harry.

“We caught him, fleeing to save himself, while you lay down your lives for him. The Boy Who Lived, your saviour.” He laughed and pointed his wand. “ _Avada Kedavra_ ”

Bright green light shot through the air, hitting Harry square in the chest. His lifeless body fell to the ground with a dull thud, his dead eyes staring up at the sky.

“The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters, will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together.”

A feeling of triumph filled Hermione, as she watched the fighters of the Light, one by one, put down their wands in surrender. Finally, the Dark Lord had his victory.

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the dialogue and/or narrative has come from 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows' book during the Final Battle.


End file.
